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To a man with a hammer, everything begins to look like a nail. Since I started strengthening my grip with those coiled spring devices, everything looks like a neck to wring.

I’ve been banking on the return to work to bring back the joie de vivre, but I’m still waiting for it to kick in. 

Although I’m glad I stayed away from last weekend’s deifheid barbie and babble, I didn’t make good use of my freedom, and the evening felt wasted. 

I swam yesterday in sunshine but took little pleasure in it.

Thanks to the marvellous bliss pills, I’m immune to low spirits, even after a third day of wasp stings and stupidly breaking the tooth that was so laboriously root-canalised last year. But there’s more to optimism than just a lack of pessimism.

Next week the clients will come in, and things will take off. That’s nice, but the day will come when I stop work for good, and what will I fall back on then? My one and a half friends (even less since the dog died)? I daresay I could keep busy in the garden and on the web, but there’s a lot to be said for euthanasia.

Happily, these are only feelings, which will pass.